Holding Out For A Hero
by Magenta Evangeline
Summary: Ginny and Harry are together now. But when someone comes along that shows her real love, will she open her eyes and see him?
1. Default Chapter

There was a time in her life when Ginny Weasley knew nothing but happiness. A time when, despite her slightly dark past, she had thought her life to be perfect. She was in her sixth year at Hogwarts when all that ended.

She finally had the boy of her dreams, her lifelong crush. Harry Potter held her in his arms watching the sun set over the lake, slipped her discreet, affectionate notes in the hallways and kissed her in a way that was so much more than 'just friends'. As far as she knew, there was absolutely nothing that could ruin this.

She was wrong. When Harry became too touchy-feely with her, she made it clear that she was going to wait until her wedding night to have sex. He told her he was okay with that, and told her he admired her for sticking to her morals. Then, one day shy of her 16th birthday, Ginny stumbled sleepily into the kitchens for a midnight snack and discovered Harry, in his boxers and Hogwarts tie lying on the kitchen equivalent of the Gryffindor table with an entirely naked Cho Chang straddling him. Harry begged Ginny's forgiveness for weeks, explaining that Cho was just meaningless sex, that men had needs, blah, blah, blah. Ginny refused to forgive him- until, that is, he told her he loved her. No boy, save for her brothers and her dad, had ever told her that before. No one had ever loved her _like that_. She didn't know if she would ever experience this again. And, remembering all of the good times she had shared with Harry, she took him back.

On the night of Harry's Hogwarts graduation, Ginny walked in on Harry in the Gryffindor common room, naked and rubbing oil onto an equally naked Lavender Brown. This time, Harry didn't follow her around begging for her back, or send her dozens of roses professing his most adamant apologies. In fact, he gave her an ultimatum: if he couldn't have her, actually _have _her, he would need to go elsewhere for the fulfillment of his needs. Ginny knew that she couldn't be with Harry while he was sleeping with other women, and she refused to let him go. He was, after all, the love of her life. He was the only man she'd ever had true feelings for, and the only man who had ever returned them. So she gave him her virginity.

When he came to her in the night in her seventh year, flying through her open dormitory window under a concealment charm, she felt guilty and happy, full and yet empty. She loved that she was pleasing Harry and she saw why Parvati and Lavender gushed about sex in the girls' locker rooms, but she still felt wrong doing it. Not in a definitive way, but there was something just not right. The feeling never went away, and she eventually learned to live with it. And after her graduation, when she moved into Harry's little Diagon Alley flat, she convinced herself that she was just as happy as she'd been at fifteen.

**AN: Okay, so that was a prologue… I really didn't like my original story, so I decided to change it. I hope you like it and PLEASE REVIEW! (Danke! – Magenta Evangeline)**


	2. Chapter Two

Ginny cursed and kicked the toilet with a sneakered foot. She had always hated this tiny bathroom, but it was the only one in the apartment. She could swear the room was shrinking. Every few seconds she glanced down at the small, corked glass vial in her hand, wishing it would hurry up and change. She curled and uncurled her toes, cracked her knuckles, dropped her head back against the cold, tiled wall behind the bathtub. She nearly dropped the vial when she felt the glass heating up, not from the temperature but from the shock of the sudden change. Quickly she pulled herself out of the bathtub and read the faded label sitting on the top of the toilet.

_If it be the potion's blue, in the womb a child shall grow for you. But if it's red the potion be, in nine months no baby there'll be. If the potion turns purple, seek medical consul. _

Ginny scoffed at the bad poetry and looked at the bottle on the counter. She was sure that if it was possible, every one of her internal organs had just dissolved. The potion was now a shimmering shade of cornflower blue. She clutched her stomach, both because of the thought of a child in there, and because of a sudden bout of nausea that was, although certainly brought upon by the child, decidedly not morning sickness. Before she knew it, her eyes were filling with tears. Her nose started running, and all she could do was sniffle and try to hold it back because she'd used the last of the toilet paper. This realization brought more tears, and once again she sunk into the chilly bathtub. What would everyone _say_? What would her parents think? An unwed mother at 19! What would Harry think? Ginny had never broached the subject of kids with him. She assumed he wanted them someday; that always seemed like something he'd want. But she was sure that now, in the peak of his success as an Auror-slash-Quidditch player, he would not want a mini Harry scampering around. An abortion, for her, was out of the question. Even if she weren't entirely prepared for a child _now_, she would after all have nine months to ready herself. And she was good with kids, she loved them. She wiped her eyes and nose on the hand towel, reminding herself to wash it later. When she had her wand and was mentally capable of performing spells.

Outside the bathroom she heard the soft click of the front door shutting, and the sounds of Harry taking off his coat and shoes. He would be expecting her to go out and meet him, like she did every day. She couldn't let him think something was up yet, so she quickly splashed some water on her face and walked out of the bathroom, drying her face with a clean facecloth.

"Hey, sweetie." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "How was work?" Harry shrugged. He looked weary.

"We thought we had him this time. We had a good lead, but someone fucked everything up. Wrote down the details wrong, so we ended up fifty kilometres away from the Death Eater meeting. Problem is, we didn't know which way it was. Why's your face all wet?" Harry asked, suddenly noticing the damp facecloth in her left hand.

"Oh, it was nothing… I was just… you know, playing with makeup. Girly things. I couldn't think of a spell to get it off," she chuckled. "It looked rather horrid, actually. I don't think I'm cut out for the whole transvestite look. Anyway, had to get it off the Muggle way. A bit hard on my skin actually, took a lot of scrubbing to get it all."

"Mm. So what's for dinner, Ginner?" Ginny clenched her teeth as she smiled.

"Nothing, if you keep on calling me Ginner…" She warned. Harry laughed.

"Sorry. It just suits you so much. You just look like a Ginner. I can't help it, babe. Anyway, I really feel like spaghetti and meatballs. Think you can rustle some up?" Harry ruffled her orange-red curls, stirring up the frizz Ginny had carefully managed to hide from him.

"Well, I doubt it, seeing as I don't cook. Remember? We've been over this countless times. I'm not my mother, Har. I can't cook anything past scrambled eggs. So unless you're in the mood for eggs on toast, I recommend going out for takeout." Harry frowned.

"If you can't cook, what have you been feeding me?" Ginny raised one eyebrow, a skill she had perfected way back in her fourth year (it really came in handy when she was dating Michael Corner, for some reason).

"Some days I can be bothered to get something ready for you. There's a nice place not too far from here I go to sometimes. They serve frozen meals. You just heat them and serve them." Harry nodded and ruffled her hair again.

"Why don't you go get some of those, and I'll hold down the fort?" Ginny sighed.

"I'd rather not. I've already eaten and there's a ton of stuff I still want to do tonight."

"Come on, Ginny. I work, I provide for both of us and you sit around on your ass all day and you can't even be bothered to do this one little thing for me?" Ginny scratched her freckled nose and sighed.

"It's useless arguing with you, Harry. Even though I know you're wrong." She muttered the last part very quietly. Best not provoke him. She buttoned her olive-coloured coat and slipped a pair of mittens into her pocket, just in case. It was only November, but so far there had been some very chilly, windy days.

"And hurry back! I'm hungry!" She heard as she shut the front door. In the hall, she leaned against the wall and clenched her hands into fists, trying with all her might not to scream.

"Are- are you alright there, deary?" Ginny opened her eyes. The old woman who lived in the apartment across from Harry and Ginny was peering up at Ginny.

"Oh, um, I'm… I'm fine." She collected herself. "I'm fine." She nodded, and the old woman walked ahead, leaving a smell of cats and old clothes in the air.


	3. Chapter 3

Days went by, and Ginny knew she had to tell Harry about the baby. She knew it, yet somehow she couldn't. Every time she opened her mouth, some stupid comment about the weather or the latest celebrity breakup spilled out. Finally, on one particularly cold night, while she and Harry lay under the covers together watching Muggle sitcoms, she decided she _had_ to tell him. Immediately.

"Harry?" She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him.

"Mm?" He didn't take his eyes off the tv.

"I have something to tell you." There were frogs leaping around in her stomach. She took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant." Harry didn't respond for a moment. Then he looked at her.

"Ha ha, very funny. You almost had me there." He patted her head and focused back on the 'Will and Grace' rerun on tv.

"Harry, I'm not joking. I'm pregnant." Harry sat up and stared at her for a few minutes.

"Weren't you using any protection?"

"Evidently not! You know I usually do but I guess one time I forgot to." Harry smiled.

"Don't worry, Ginny. I'll be there for you. Tomorrow, I'll make you an appointment with a healer."

"I'm definitely pregnant, Harry. One hundred percent. Not only did I take a pregnancy test, but my body's been acting weird lately. I know I am."

"I don't doubt it. You have actually been looking a bit rounder lately. I didn't want to say anything… thought I might offend you." Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, _no kidding. _But look, Harry, I don't need to see a healer. In fact, I'd rather we keep this sort of quiet for a while, if that's okay."

"Hey, if that's what you want. If you want, no one will ever have to know." He smiled again and took her hands in his. "We'll get through this."

"What do you mean, no one will ever had to know? It's going to be a little hard to hide, don't you think?" The laugh track on the tv sounded and she sharply waved her wand, turning the tv off. "And besides, I'm going to be proud to be a mother. Of course I'm going to want everyone to know, just not yet. I mean, Fred and Angie just got engaged… I don't want to steal their thunder or anything."

"Wait- Ginny, are you seriously suggesting that we have this baby?" He got out of bed and started pacing. "Do you know how… completely… how totally… that would ruin everything for me right now. If you have a baby I have to devote time and care to it, I have to take time away from work… I'm at the peak of my career! Show some fucking consideration, Ginevra. You can't have a baby now. I can't be a father now. It's ridiculous. Completely absurd and I refuse to even consider it. No." Ginny stared at him in disbelief. "You know my opinion on this… I could never abort my child, and giving it up for adoption isn't an option either."

"Well, I can't father a child right now. No way. Absolutely _not_."

"Harry, I love you, but giving up this child would be like giving up a piece of myself. With or without you there, I'm having him or her. But you've disappointed me tonight. You say you'll be there for me when I need you, but you mean you'll be there when you feel like it. That's not love at all."

"So, are you going to get rid of the baby?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes.

"No." Harry nodded.

"Then, I think we need to take some time away from each other. I'll call Hermione to come and help you pack up your things."

"Are you joking me? You're kicking me out of our apartment! Who do you think you are, Harry? I have just as much right to be here as you do."

"Well, Ginny," Harry began as if talking to a small child, "If I recall correctly, I make the money in this relationship. I pay most of the rent, and you submit a small percentage, which comes from your savings. Now, if I were to leave this apartment we both know you could barely afford the rent for a month, plus everything you need to survive on your own. No, it's best for you to return to the Burrow, or go stay with Luna. And now that I think about it, I'd rather you didn't get Hermione involved with this, I don't want her taking sides." Ginny scoffed.

"Because you know she'll take mine? You're a prick, Harry. What happened to you after Hogwarts?"

"I grew up, Ginny. Try it."

When Ginny woke the next morning Harry was gone, the covers on his side of the bed rumpled. Ginny closed her eyes again, attempting to sleep. The digital clock beside her bed said that it was almost ten. Sunlight was straining through the cracks in the blinds, and Ginny was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. Desperately wiping tears away before they could fall, she pulled herself out of bed. She sighed, knowing that she had to pack her things and leave her home today. She stood up, surveying everything but not sure where to begin. She decided that the first thing she would need to do was to find a friend and get a good long hug.

Ginny took a pinch of Floo powder from the almost empty metal box over the fireplace. Throwing it in the fireplace she stuck in her head and said clearly,

"Creevey Residence". When everything stopped spinning, Ginny was looking into a very bare room, decorated with black and white furniture and lit only by a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Her best friend, Colin Creevey, was sitting in a stiff-looking white chair, reading the Daily Prophet. He looked up as Ginny's head appeared in the fireplace.

"Hey, Gin-girl. You'll never guess what happened last night. I was at this bar, and this absolutely _gorgeous _guy offered to-"

"Colin, I'm pregnant." Colin's jaw dropped. He stood up and walked toward the fireplace.

"Oh, sweetie. Congratulations, I think. What's the matter, love?"

"Harrydoesn'twantmetokeepthebaby," She blurted out, trying to keep from crying. An angry expression formed on Colin's face.

"What a scumbag. Let me guess, he's at the _peak of his career_, right?" He shook his head disbelievingly. Ginny let out a small hiccup. "I suppose that's the closest to a laugh I'm going to get out of you. Now, get the rest of your body over here, I'm getting out the ice cream, we're going to get Luna over here and say bad things about Harry 'til the cows come home!" Ginny chuckled tearfully and retreated into her house to floo back to Colin's.

"He did not." Luna's usually large eyes were simply enormous as she looked at Ginny's wet face. Ginny looked sharply up at Luna, who had grown several inches since Hogwarts and was now taller than both Colin and Ginny, and in fact the only person Ginny could think of whose height surpassed Luna's was Ron. Luna's face was stony. Ginny wondered if Luna actually didn't believe her for a moment, until Luna wrapped her long arms around Ginny tightly.

"Scumbag, right?" Colin put in.

"Well, why doesn't he want the baby? Did he say? Oh, was it…" She and Colin shared a semi-amused glance. "Was it 'I'm at the peak of my career'?" This time, Ginny gave what was unmistakably a laugh, and nodded. Apparently, more than just she had noticed what had seemingly become his catchphrase as of late. It had become his answer to almost any sort of question, from "How are you?" to "Would you like butter in the middle of your popcorn for only 50 cents more?".

The three of them spent hours, eating junk food and talking about old times and the latest gossip, and were lying on Colin's sofabed watching an old Muggle movie (after Rufus Scrimgeour's retirement from the Ministry, the new Minister had brought a new relationship with Muggles to the Wizarding world. Now, most Wizarding families had televisions in their homes) when Luna asked the question Ginny had been dreading.

"So what are you going to do?" Ginny felt hot tears prickling her eyes as she looked at them.  
"I don't know," she answered after a moment, thinking. "I just don't know what to do. If I go home, Mum and Dad are sure to make me feel guilty for being pregnant and not married, and for making Harry angry. I can't tell Hermione or Ron because Ron will take Harry's side and get angry at me for not listening to Harry- you know he still worships the ground Harry walks on, not that he'd ever admit it- and if I tell Hermione she's sure to tell Ron. Ever since they broke up she's doing whatever she can to get him back, and if that means betraying me she'd have no qualms about it. We've never been close, we're just friends because she's around the family so much. And of course, if I want to go back home, I'll have to kill my baby, so--" She broke off. Colin was goggling at her. "What, Colin?"

"Don't be daft, Ginny! I've got a bloody _huge _flat, you can stay here!" Ginny blushed.

"I don't want to intru--"

"Rubbish. Go home, _right now_, and get your things and leave. Show Harry he can't boss you around anymore. Show him that you're leaving because you want to, not because he's forcing you out." Ginny nodded slowly, taking in his words.

"And bring everything you two shared! It's yours, too, you know!" Luna put in, as Ginny grabbed a handful of floo powder from the box on the mantle.

"I'll be right back," Ginny said, and disappeared in a whirl of green flames.

As Ginny looked around the flat she and Harry shared, it struck her how many of these things were theirs because of her. Expanding and reinforcing a plastic bag, she began making her way around the living room. She emptied the bookshelves, the books were _all _hers. Harry never read, except for Playboy (one of the very few ways he allowed himself to be connected to the Muggle world) and Quidditch magazines. Except for movies like "Friday Night Lights", the movies were hers, most of the little knick knacks around the living room were hers, a lot of the pictures were of her friends and family, those went in the bag. In the bedroom she stripped the bed with her wand; Harry had never been interested in decorating the apartment and because Ginny didn't want to sleep on a bare mattress she'd borrowed money from her mum to buy nice ones. All of her clothing went into the bag, as well as her makeup, the few movies and books she kept in here, and her jewelry (she purposely left the diamond necklace Harry had given her for her 18th birthday—not like she ever wore it anyway, it was _far _too gaudy for her, and she had a point to make). She took almost all of the food, reasoning that she bought _all _of it and Harry never ate unless she made him something. The dishes and silverware had been her grandmothers, those went with her, too. In the bathroom she took everything except his shampoo, deodorant, soap and toothbrush. He may have _used _the anti-aging cream, but it was most definitely hers. Finally, she stopped at the hall closet. The towels were all his, she didn't care about that. She was looking at the broomstick. It was _hers…_ he used it to play Quidditch but it was _hers._ It was a Lightning Bolt, by the makers of the Firebolt. Incredibly expensive. It wasn't even officially on the market yet. Some high-profile Quidditch players had one, but very few were available to the public. Ginny had entered her name in a contest in Diagon Alley once, not thinking anything of it at the time. She hadn't even seen what the prize was! But a few weeks later a short, stinky man had appeared at the door wearing dark blue coveralls with a lightening bolt on the chest, and he had handed her what was unmistakably a broomstick, wrapped in shiny silver paper.

"Congratulations, Miss Weasley!" He had said unenthusiastically, and apparated. Harry had immediately swooped in and asked if he could use it for the game that night, just this once, please. Ginny had said yes, just one time couldn't hurt anything, but after that he'd taken it whenever he pleased, and if she tried to use it he got huffy and indignant, shooting her glares without saying anything.

But it was her broom. She was taking it with her. She felt a sort of childish glee once she was back at Colin's. A smile lit her face and wouldn't budge; thinking about how angry…how _furious _Harry would be when he realized she'd taken her broom, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

That night, Colin made up a bed for her on the couch and went to bed early ("beauty rest, you know… but I guess you wouldn't, look at that face!"). Despite the stiff white canvas of the couch and the annoying whirring of an overhead fan, Ginny dropped off to sleep almost immediately, feeling sure that everything would be alright for her and her baby.


	4. Chapter Four

Ginny spent the next week hiding out in Colin's apartment. She knew Harry would have talked to Ron who in turn would have blabbed to everyone, and she couldn't face the disapproving looks she knew would be on the faces of everyone in her family. Fleur would probably make some remark about how in France, 'ze girls are more honorable… zey wait for zere wedding nights!' and turn her nose up. Fleur, of course, was heavily pregnant herself, with a completely legitimate child of Bill's, and would be sure to remind everyone every day of it. Usually Ginny could have hoped for some sympathy from Hermione, but lately Hermione had been ignoring everyone, moping about and pining over Ron.

So as it was, Ginny talked to Colin when he was home (not very often; he worked short hours but usually went out for drinks after) and when Luna was free, she came over. She was usually busy at some public event; after Harry's infamous interview with the Quibbler, magazine sales had boomed. The Lovegoods donated generously to every organization you could think of, and since Luna's father was still busy with the magazine it was Luna's job to cut the ribbon when they opened the 'Lovegood Memorial Ward' (in honour of Luna's mother, of course) and other tasks.

Mostly, Ginny spent the mornings reading (she was on the final book in the Hannibal Lecter series, then it was on to The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice) and watched soap operas and talk shows in the afternoon. But as the days passed monotonously, Ginny's pull out couch began to feel incredibly uncomfortable, she couldn't focus on her book, and she began to doze off in the middle of Passions and awake to Dr. Phil, wishing he'd shut up. On the morning of her eighth day, she decided something had to be done. At home she spent a lot of the day cleaning—Harry hated a messy house, she supposed it was something his aunt Petunia had instilled in him—but Colin's house was always immaculately dust-free, and there simply weren't enough things laying about to organize or tidy up.

Ginny paced the apartment, trying to think of something—anything—she could do to pass the time. She saw that Colin had left a folded-up Daily Prophet on his steel and glass kitchen table, and she latched on to this bit of tidying that needed doing. She was carrying the paper to the recycling bin when an idea came to her. She went back to the table and opened the paper to the classifieds, conjuring a red marker out of the air (frankly, she had no idea where Colin kept anything).

An hour later, Ginny had eliminated all but three job offers in the paper. The first was for a clerk in a used bookstore in Diagon Alley; Ginny had shopped there for schoolbooks as a child, and had always loved the place. The second was for a waitressing job at the Leaky Cauldron, which would bring in more money in tips for her, but would probably require more work. The third she was wariest of… it was for a live-in maid in an obviously well off family. She set off to Diagon Alley to inquire at the bookshop, feeling cheerful at the prospect of possibly getting her own little apartment and having something to do during the long days.

A bell clanged when Ginny stepped in the door of the bookshop and a witch at the cash register with wiry grey hair looked up. She ignored Ginny and went back to writing something on a long piece of parchment behind the desk.

"Yes?" She said sharply when Ginny approached the counter. Her blue eyes were surveying Ginny attentively.

"I'm here about the job…" The witch sighed in apparent relief.

"Good, good, I was beginning to think no-one would show up! I'm Jezebel Herman, my brother Ira owns the store but I've been working here since his daughter got sick last year. Spattergroit, terrible, terrible. What's your name?"

"Ginny Weasley,"

"How old are you?" Jezebel Herman said briskly, as if she hadn't heard Ginny's reply.

"I'll be twenty this August,"

"Why do you want to work here?"

"Er… I like to read, and I used to shop here as a kid… I know how to run a cash register; my brothers own a shop and I've helped out there before,"

"Right. I suppose you'll do, won't you?"

"Er…"

"I didn't say you've got the job! Don't get ahead of yourself! I've no idea what sort of person you are. I suppose what I'll do is I'll supervise you for the first few days, make sure we can trust you. It's not easy to find someone you can trust these days, Missy."  
"Right," Ginny felt it would be a terrible choice to disagree with this woman.

"Oh—I forgot. Have you got any health problems?"

"Er…I—"

"Well do you or do you not? It's not a tough question!"

"Er, I'm pregnant…I'm just not sure if that counts." Jezebel Herman stared at Ginny for a moment before standing up suddenly.

"Don't you listen, girly? We don't want someone here who's going to leave in less than a year! Didn't I tell you this is my brother's store? I don't want to come back when you're ready to pop that out! What are you thinking?" Ginny got to her feet, wide eyed, and backed quickly to the door, slipping out with a frightened apology and all but running away.

As she approached the Leaky Cauldron, she decided to talk to Tom the barman about working there. She knew he'd be much friendlier to her. There were several couples dining in the restaurant when Ginny entered, and as she stood waiting for Tom, a blonde waitress came out of a swinging door, a tray in either hand, the hair around her forehead damp with sweat. The trays looked heavy and hard to hold, and Ginny, who'd once had a lot of strength but since leaving Hogwarts had let most of her muscle dissolve, knew she wouldn't be able to manage that all day long while carrying a child. She was left with one option.

Back at Colin's she grabbed the newspaper and read the last job offer for a phone number. There wasn't one; only a flooing address. Ginny checked her hair in the mirror over the fireplace, stuck her head in the fire and said "3348 Cedar Avenue". When the swirling stopped, she was looking into an elegantly furnished room with a thick, cream carpet and peachy marbled walls. A black woman with a sleek ponytail was sitting on a striped couch and flipping through a glossy catalogue. She looked up as Ginny arrived. As Ginny brushed the soot out of her face and took a look at the woman, she gasped; this was one of the most beautiful women Ginny had ever seen (and Ginny'd spent several summers under the same roof as Fleur Delacour). Unlike Fleur, this woman had an exotic beauty… she made Fleur look positively plain in comparison. She had high cheekbones, a full mouth and large almond eyes flecked with gold. She stood and Ginny could see she was about the same height as Luna, and she moved with a grace Luna had never developed.

"Are you here about one of the jobs advertised in the Prophet?" She asked in a slightly low, unaccented voice.

"The maid job. I'm Ginny Weasley."

"Hello Ginny. I'm Jolie Zabini. Please come through." Ginny did. "I'm going to be honest, Ginny, I wouldn't know the first thing about conducting a job interview. You see, we used to have house-elves, but… we no longer do. As a result, we're hiring people to do the jobs they used to do. Since you're the first to apply for the position of maid, I'm going to give you the job. If you don't meet my standards, I'm going to fire you. You'll live here, and have two days off a week as long as they aren't consecutive. Is that suitable?" Ginny nodded. "Excellent. Shall I show you to your room? You can get your things—I'll change the wards to let you apparate in—and you can begin tomorrow."

"That sounds fine, Miss Zabini. Er… I suppose you should know I'm pregnant. But it won't affect my work! I promise I'll work incredibly hard every day until I have to stop." Jolie merely nodded.

"That's fine. I'm not prejudiced, Ginny. As long as your work quality is good, I have no reason to judge you. These are the staff quarters. You'll be living here with the other maids—oh yes," she said, at Ginny's surprised look. "If we didn't hire some other girls you wouldn't get your two days off a week, it simply wouldn't be possible. Here we are. I trust you can show yourself around, I have things to attend to. Tomorrow morning I'll introduce you to everyone else. When the other girls arrive, I expect you three to work out a schedule so that you each have two days off and none of them coincide."

"Miss Zabini?" Ginny said as Jolie turned her back to leave.

"Yes?"

"Well, you said that nobody else had applied for the job… so what did you mean when you said the other girls would arrive?"

"I have a lot of faith in the Daily Prophet, Ginny, to get me what I need." She looked at Ginny for a moment before briskly walking out, her heels clacking on the marble floor of the room. Ginny wondered what she meant, but didn't ask anything more. Instead, she began to look around the suite of rooms. There was a moderate bedroom with three single beds, each fitted with white cotton sheets. Beside each bed was a small wooden table and an open window. Three wardrobes stood across from the beds. A honeysuckle breeze floated in the windows. Ginny dropped her jacket on the bed farthest right and went to explore the bathroom. It was about the same size as the bedroom, with three curtained shower stalls and three sinks. There was, Ginny noted with amusement, one toilet. The walls and floor tiles were white and there was a small window in the upper wall. On her way out Ginny saw there was a small linen closet filled with slightly worn-looking white towels of various sizes.

On the other side of the bedroom was a living room and kitchenette. There were none of the usual Muggle appliances, but Ginny had spent years watching her mother cook with magic, so she knew she could handle it. The living area had no tv, but after seeing the rest of the suite this didn't surprise Ginny. There were two squashy white armchairs and a matching loveseat as well as an empty bookshelf and a large coffee table. Across from the bookshelf, behind the loveseat was a fireplace.

Remembering that Jolie had told her she would allow Ginny to apparate through the wards, Ginny decided to, despite the fact that she found apparating particularly unpleasant. When she arrived back at the Zabinis' home, the suite was still empty, so she enlarged her things to their regular sizes and began unpacking. She'd left some of her things with Colin, with a note of explanation, so she didn't have to worry about storing her queen size duvet or many of her pictures. She displayed some on the table beside her bed, but most stayed in a box at Colin's. As she finished her unpacking, she heard the door in the living room open and Jolie's clear voice carried through into the bedroom. Feeling it would be rude to peer out at the new girl, she busied herself with putting her cosmetics into a medicine cabinet over one of the sinks. When she heard the bedroom door click open, she dashed back in, jamming her shampoo messily into one of the shower stalls.

Jolie raised her sculpted eyebrows when Ginny came in, trying to act casual.

"Ginny, this is Mathilde Rousseau. Mathilde, Ginny Weasley." Jolie indicated a short, very skinny, frightened looking girl with long, thick, somewhat dull-looking dark brown hair. Mathilde, you can please choose a bed and unpack your things. Ginny, may I please have a word with you?"

"Of course," Ginny said, and followed Jolie into the bathroom.

"Ginny, as you may have noticed, Mathilde has been through _quite _an ordeal. Without getting into specifics, let me just say she's had an incredibly tough time. She's just come over from France, and has been in need of a job and a place to live. If you could, please try to befriend her, or at least show her kindness." Ginny nodded, now curious to this girl's past. "Hopefully someone else will join the two of you shortly." Jolie left, moving briskly and gracefully at the same time. Ginny went apprehensively back into the bedroom.

"Er… hi," She said. Mathilde flinched and dropped the brown cardigan she'd been hanging up.

"'Ello," she said very quietly. Ginny noticed that Mathilde had taken the bed on the far left.

"So, uh, how come you left France?" Ginny said awkwardly, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Mathilde paused, looking at the grey dress in her hands. "Bugger, I'm sorry, that was nosy of me. Don't answer that if you don't want to." Ginny said, flushing. Mathilde smiled, but a moment later her face was as timid-looking as always and Ginny wasn't sure if she'd imagined it. After a few more halted attempts at conversation, Ginny decided that she'd have to work at it slowly, and, following Mathilde's lead, went to bed early.

The next morning Ginny gradually woke as sunlight streamed in the open window beside her bed. Remembering where she was, she sat up abruptly and looked around. Mathilde's bed was neatly made and she heard the sound of running water from the bathroom. The middle bed was still untouched. Glancing over at Mathilde's bed, Ginny got an idea of what to wear. Mathilde had laid out a large white t-shirt and a pair of navy sweats. A pair of scuffed sneakers lay at the foot of the bed. Deciding to wait until Mathilde came out to have a shower, Ginny got out her clothes for the day and made her bed. Just as she was deciding to go ahead with her shower, the door opened and Mathilde came out, dwarfed by a towel. She tucked her wet hair behind her ear, and when she did Ginny saw a large blue-purple mark on her shoulder. She gasped.

"Mathilde! What happened to your arm!" Mathilde looked at her sharply, and then down at her feet.

"'Eet is nothing," She said, walking over to her bed.

"But…" Ginny started, and then stopped herself. _Nosy! _She reprimanded herself, and went into the bathroom to shower.

When she finished in the shower, Mathilde had been waiting for her to go downstairs. Luckily, as neither knew where to go, Jolie came to their room to get them. She explained that each of them would have a certain area of the house to clean every day, and they would clean another girl's area when that girl was away. The supplies they'd need would be provided.

"But before you begin, I'll introduce you to everyone." She said, bringing them to a halt before a large mahogany dining table. "My son, Blaise, and my father, Julien Bellanger." A boy Ginny remembered well from the 'Slug Club' looked up from his sausage and nodded briefly. An old man beside him with grey hair and a weathered face took his time looking them both over. He nodded at Ginny and tutted over Mathilde.

"Jolie," he said. His voice sounded dry. Jolie's head whirled toward him instantly. "This girl cannot work without some food. Neither of them," He amended, glancing at Ginny. "Luke!" A man in a long apron came out of a door behind the table. He ran a hand through his wavy, shoulder-length blue hair. Julien told him to bring out some more breakfast trays, and while Luke prepared them, Julien told Mathilde and Ginny to sit at the table. Jolie said nothing, but sat at the head of the table and watched them all. Julien began questioning Ginny first, about her interests and life past and present, and then looked kindly at Mathilde.

"Hello, Mathilde," he said gently. She echoed his greeting in a soft voice. "Mathilde," she looked up, questioning. He caught her eye and began to speak to her softly in French, none of which Ginny understood, but it seemed to cheer Mathilde up. She even laughed aloud at one point, and when he finished speaking after a minute or two, she looked considerably happier. She dug in to her pancakes and glanced occasionally at the room around her. Blaise was looking at his grandfather curiously… Ginny didn't think he could speak fluent French, but he must have understood some of the things Julien had said. After a few moments of silence during which Ginny and Mathilde ate all that was on their plates, Julien spoke again.

"Now, Ginny, haven't I seen you in the papers canoodling with Harry Potter?" Ginny tried to keep the malice out of her voice.

"Yes, we were dating."

"Were?" Blaise asked. "Past tense? That's unexpected… at school you stuck to him like a parasite. Would've thought you'd be married with a litter by now."

"Blaise." Both Julien and Jolie had opened their mouths but Jolie had spoken first. Blaise looked from his mother to his grandfather, and then stood and left the room.

"I'm sorry for him. He's upset about the presence of strangers in the house… he was very attached to some of the house-elves, you see." Jolie said, and, seeing their empty plates, she announced that she would show them the house.

The Zabini house was magnificent. No other word seemed to fit… it wasn't feminine enough to be beautiful, but too pretty to be handsome. It was more than amazing, and spectacular was too whimsical. It could only appropriately be called _magnificent. _Having never been outside, Ginny could only speculate, but she thought it must look enormous and gorgeous. At first glance, the inside was unremarkable, but after only a few minutes of the tour, Ginny realized that it would be incredibly easy to get lost inside it. It was two storeys tall, each level consisting of two or four intersecting hallways, depending on how you looked at it. There were doors every few feet along the hallways both upstairs and down, and initially it looked like the Zabinis had constructed their house simply to have many rooms. But as Jolie showed them inside each of the doorways, Ginny realized that all of the doors led into suites like the one they were living in. Not all appeared to be bedrooms; there were libraries with whole rooms devoted to one topic, fabulous kitchens stocked with everything a person could ever think of, suites made for different types of physical activity with a swimming pool in one room and a running track in another. Jolie informed them that each family member had a specific wing in the house upstairs, and each of them would be assigned to one of the wings. The fourth wing had been Jolie's late husband's (during the late years of their marriage their relationship had been quite rocky). It was where their suite was and they didn't have to clean it. Downstairs they would clean the wing underneath their upstairs hallway and it was understood they couldn't clean the entire two wings in one day, so they were to alternate: upstairs one day, downstairs the next. As they finished the tour, Jolie told them that Ginny would be cleaning her rooms and Mathilde would clean Julien's. When the third maid arrived she would clean Blaise's section of the house. Until then, Jolie informed them, the downstairs rooms below Blaise's could stay dusty.

By the time Jolie finished showing them around, it was lunchtime, and as with breakfast Ginny and Mathilde sat at the main table with Julien, Jolie and Blaise. As blue-haired Luke served a variety of sandwiches, Jolie assured everyone that starting tomorrow they'd be eating in their own room after they stocked their fridge.

"So, Ginny, do tell me, when did you and _The Boy-Who-Lived _break up?" Blaise asked, his tone conversational.

"Recently," Ginny answered elusively, taking a huge bite of turkey sandwich.

"Indeed? If I may ask, what caused this… rift?" Ginny swallowed, and began to answer when Julien interrupted.

"Ginny, would you care for some more water?" He pointed his wand at her near empty glass and filled it up. She gave him a grateful smile and took a long gulp. Needless to say, when the meal was over, Ginny was very glad to get away from Blaise Zabini.

Ginny fell into an easy pattern of cleaning for Jolie. The days slipped by, yet she and Mathilde had yet to see the often spoken of third maid. Just when they were beginning to contemplate talking to Jolie about taking on some more duties, Blaise's wing for one, on the one-week mark, she arrived. Night had fallen and Ginny and Mathilde were lying on their respective beds, Ginny reading and Mathilde knitting. The door opened and the clack of heels could be heard. Both girls sat up, expecting Jolie. The woman who walked into the room was decidedly _not _their employer. She was a tall, curvy woman with shining, curled blonde hair. She pursed her lips, her eyes skipping over Mathilde and pausing on Ginny. She was using her wand to make several matching bags float in the air behind her. She dropped them with a soft thump on the middle bed and surveyed the room. Ignoring both girls behind her, who were staring incredulously, she clacked into the bathroom. Ginny heard a soft tutting, and exchanged a glance with Mathilde.

"Rosemary Cross. And you are?" The third maid came back into the room, looking at Ginny.

"Ginny Weasley. This is Mathilde Rousseau." She indicated Mathilde. Rosemary gave her the slightest of glances.

"You're dating Harry Potter." She said this like she might accuse someone of stealing.

"Not today," Ginny said, looking at Rosemary curiously.

"What does _that _mean?"

"It means zat zey are not togezzer… I should think zat would be clear," Mathilde put in. Over the week she'd been working with Ginny, she'd perked up noticeably. Her hair had begun to shine and she could be seen smiling often. She'd gained a few pounds, too, and looked great. She even sang in the shower some mornings.

"What are you, Italian?" Rosemary turned to Mathilde for the first time.

"French," Mathilde said in an icy voice. Rosemary shrugged.

"Same difference, right? Haha," Mathilde didn't laugh with her.

"_So_… you and _Harry _broke _up_!" Rosemary turned to Ginny, who nodded.

"Have at him," Ginny said, turning back to her book.

"_Oh—no._ I wouldn't _think _of it! I didn't mean it like that! Obviously you still have _feelings _for him; I wouldn't—couldn't—_do _that to you! My goodness! I'm just a curious outsider, that's _all_!" She had sat beside Ginny on the bed, and was clutching her hands passionately. Ginny delicately pulled her hands free and marked her page in the book.

"Errr… it's late, I'm really tired, so…"

"Oui, I think I will go to bed," Mathilde said. Mathilde and Ginny grabbed their nightclothes and scurried into the bathroom to change, fighting giggles.

Mathilde went into her shower stall, as usual, and Ginny changed her work clothes for an old t-shirt of Charlie's. Mathilde came out in her usual flannel nightgown, weaving her long hair into a braid.

"I bet zat Blaise and Rosemary will get along…" Mathilde said, smirking. Ginny snorted.

"They'd make a lovely couple, wouldn't they?" Trying to keep their laughter down, they went back into the bedroom, where Rosemary was putting her things in the wardrobe. It seemed that not all of her skirts would fit, and so she was looking appraisingly at Ginny's wardrobe.

"I'm actually expecting some more clothes soon, Rosemary," Ginny said.

"I- I wasn't…" Rosemary trailed off and sighed huffily. Ginny shared one last amused look with Mathilde, and then both of them pulled their blankets over their heads and went to sleep.


End file.
